No man is infinitely strong; for every creature that runs, flies, hops or crawls there is a terminal nemesis which he will not circumvent, which will finally do him in.

The church of my choice is the free, open world.

There is no route out of the maze. The maze shifts as you move through it, because it is alive.

The hell with the newspapers. Nobody reads the letters to the editor column except the nuts. It's enough to get you down.

He felt all at once like an ineffectual moth, fluttering at the windowpane of reality, dimly seeing it from outside.

Everything in life is just for a while.

My major preoccupation is the question, 'What is reality?'